Nocturne
by EmeraldxLady
Summary: Five years after the opera fire. Now famous Composer and Architect Erik Bonnaire has started a new life in industrial London, England. Happily married to his lovely wife Rosalyn, a woman of once poor status, Rosalyn tries to fit into a crowd she knows she doesn't belong and stay happily married to a man she knows can never fully love her like he loved his lost angel, Christine.


_**Hello, **_

_**This is not the first story I have done for the fandom but this is the first well-done story. I tried to stick with the books and bits of the movie, but I have decided to kinda...make it my own in a way. **_

_**Hope you like it!**_

_**POTO (c) Gaston Leroux**_

_**OC's (C) Me **_

* * *

_**March 20**__**th**__** 1880 Royal Opera House, London England.**_

"Mr. Bonnaire your Opera was beyond words to describe, once again you have awed the public with your splendor!"

An extremely tall man dressed in a high quality suit that is reserved on special occasions, he wore a blood red vest with a matching silk wrapped around his neck. His black gloved hands pressed against his chest as he bowed slightly.

"I thank you for such kind words your Majesty, it is an honor to know that I have pleased you." His soft tenor of his voice ran smooth with each word. The composer wore an elegantly crafted white mask that covered all of his face except his lips that formed a thin smile. Gold eyes held a panther like stare. He straightened from the bow, jet black hair slicked neatly back; he glanced to his companion that stood quietly next to him.

Queen Victoria stood tall and proud as any royal, but the look upon her face was that of pleasure and high approval. Her majesty had written a raving review of how his skill in the art of music would become a jewel of the industrial age. Never mind the fact that she completely ignored the white mask on his face.

"Your Majesty, I don't believe you have met my wife, Rosalyn." Mr. Bonnaire gestured to a red haired woman dressed in a sapphire satin ball gown that showed off her shoulder and most of her arms; she wore a velvet ribbon with a small sapphire pendent around her neck, black lace fingerless gloves, holding her fan.

"It is an honor to become acquainted your Majesty." She replied softly with a curtsy, yet there was confidence in her tone.

Queen Victoria bowed her hand in greeting "You must feel delighted by your husband's fortune?"

Rosalyn smiled sweetly, her teeth were rather straight and clean. "Of course your highness, I am proud of his work and success. I will never ask for a better husband." Queen Victoria seemed pleased with Rosalyn's answer.

Mr. Bonnaire had placed his hand on the small of her back, standing tall next to her as they continued conversation with the queen.

"I was recommended to come here by Count Philippe De Chagny; he said that he has become a rather interested admirer of your work Mr. Bonnaire." Queen Victoria continued, she did not notice the look that Rosalyn gave to her husband, but he continued his steady gaze onto her majesty.

"How very kind of him, I presume this happened when you have never heard of me?"

Queen Victoria gave a tight smile "Yes, I was rather skeptical at first but I should say that your work of _El aliento de los ángeles _was breath taking, especially Don Santiago's aria of sorrow and grief of his dead wife was quite moving."

Rosalyn watched as a brief moment of sadness entered her eyes, but neither Bonnaire said anything about the death of Prince Albert. They were saved from the awkward tension by a man in military dress uniform, the Queen broke her conversation with the composer and his wife to mingle amongst those closer to royalty.

Rosalyn relaxed her shoulders, opening her fan with a flick of her wrist she began to lightly fan herself, she looked up at her husband and let out a sigh.

"Shall I speak freely or bite my tongue?"

"Speak freely, I'd rather hear your opinion above all others…" he continued his emotionless smooth tenor.

Rosalyn rolled her eyes as she stepped to stand in front of him, she was neither very short nor tall, and her green eyes were fearless as she stared at him.

"I am concerned about you Erik, isn't that every wife's duty?" she whispered, trying not to cause a scene.

Erik met her gaze and softened, "Do not be concerned about me; I have moved on to a peaceful life of fulfillment, I vowed that I would leave it all behind." He traced his fingers up her arm affectionately.

"Come _petite aime_, let's finish greeting the guests before we take leave."

Rosalyn followed behind, putting on her pleasant face as she walked arm in arm beside Erik, throughout the room Rosalyn searched for a familiar face, she was beginning to feel overwhelmed by the glamour of the wealthy and all their silks, jewels and perfume. Queen Victoria was clueless to Rosalyn's actual status, before she married Erik she was only a smear on someone's boot. But her clear skin and straight teeth fooled everyone, from her previous life style, she had grown to appreciate and be grateful for the simpler things. She had come a long way from being an ill-literate street rat to blooming into a sophisticated woman.

By the time the night was over, Rosalyn was feeling tired and irritated. Much like Erik, neither were a rather interested in parties. Spending in each other's company or alone was highly preferable. Rosalyn dozed on Erik's shoulder on the carriage ride home, wrapped in her white fur coat that Rosalyn reluctantly accepted from Erik that winter. She could feel the motion of the carriage and smell the light scent of sandalwood on Erik's jacket.

* * *

_**Morning of March 21**__**st**_

Rosalyn stared at herself in the mirror of her cherry wood vanity; the master bedroom she shared with Erik was vast, spacious and even had a grand piano by the large window that looked out onto the neatly clipped courtyard. The red and black curtains were pulled aside to let the morning light spill into the room; the Persian carpets barely had a speck of dust on it.

Rosalyn glanced at her reflection again when she was pulling her hair up in a braided bun, she was fortunate of her clear skin and healthy teeth compliments to the remedies Erik had given her. She had a very oval face with large grass green eyes; her hair was a bright red with matching thin brows and light freckles dotted across her short nose. Rosalyn rubbed the tip of her nose with a frown, she always hated her nose, felt that it was too short for her face.

The dress she wore was tailored to her rather busty figure, she hated the fact that her chest was larger than all of the other ladies she knew, sometimes wearing more revealing dresses made her worried that everything may suddenly fall out. Her long sleeved dress of magenta showed off her neck and collar bone, slight lace ruffles in the back to add a bit of balance to her body type, simple in style and color. Grabbing her hat, she walked out of her room and down the hall way, decorated with the collection from the priceless art from all over. The décor and design of the house was artistic itself, very gothic themed yet held the slight brightness of the modern architecture along with heavy Persian influence.

Descending down the stairs to the elaborate foyer, a red Persian carpet laid perfectly in place, the crystal and bronze chandelier hung above, sparkling in the natural light. The large oak door was carved exquisitely to the taste of an entrance of mystery.

At the bottom of the stairs was an older woman dressed in black, her grey eyes were sharp, taking on her natural stern look. Rosalyn gave her a polite smile,

"Good morning Mrs. Benedict, this there anything I can help you with?"

Mrs. Benedict handed Rosalyn the morning post, Rosalyn shifted through the various hand written mail, and most were addressed to Erik except for the one that addressed to both of them.

"Another party invitation…" Rosalyn sighed as she opened it and read through it, her brows rose.

"Oh…that can't be good." She closed the letter and nodded to Mrs. Benedict, walking down a hall to the dining room which was big enough to hold a party of fifteen. At the end of the table was a meal set for one.

"I presume Erik has gone somewhere…" she sighed as she took her seat; Mrs. Henry nodded as a maid poured morning coffee for Rosalyn.

"The Master said he would return this afternoon." Mrs. Henry nodded and took her leave so Rosalyn could eat her food. She noticed a small envelope next to her plate; opening it she recognized Erik's hand artistic cursive.

_Rose, _

_I am sorry that I missed breakfast this morning but I must take this business trip and shall be back this afternoon, I would've preferred you to accompany me but you were sleeping very peacefully. _

_All my love,_

_Erik_

Rosalyn clucked her tongue knowingly as she set down the short letter and began eating her breakfast in quiet peace; she was still feeling exhausted from the night before and was happy that the coffee helped with the dull ache in her head.

After breakfast, Rosalyn left the dining room and headed for the study; sitting in the soft leather seat of the chair Erik had purchased that nearly matched the color of the dark cherry wood of his desk. Replying to the various letters from admirers, customers; even looking over the business related letters before putting them aside for Erik to deal with later.

Erik's fortune was not from his music, it was his amazing taste in architecture. In the process of designing at least four mansions for many wealthy interests who have seen with their own eyes the expense Erik had put into his home before deciding to hire him, Rosalyn still discovered new details to her home that she has lived in for the past two and a half years.

The study was large; from one end of the right wall to the other was a book shelf of mahogany filled with all sorts of literature and priceless trinkets he gathered from over the years. On the left side of the wall were carefully made wooden cabinets of all of his business files and contracts neatly organized. Also on the left side of the wall were posters of his operas and paper clippings framed by Rosalyn and placed there along with other momentums of his success.

Getting up, Rosalyn walked to the window behind the desk, looking thoughtfully at the scenery of the Persian and Ancient Greek inspired garden. The white fountain of Venus holding a water vase pouring the crystal clear water in the marble bowl, the morning light danced across the water.

Rosalyn looked at the letter from earlier on that morning, her eyes scanned the neat script of the words, addressing to both her and Erik.

_Dear Monsieur and Madam Bonnaire,_

_Tis my pleasure to ask you to attend a dinner that I am hosting along with my younger brother the Viscount, please come to the_ _De Chagny London resort on March 30__th__ at 7 o'clock sharp. It will be an honor to meet you and your lovely wife. _

_Regards, _

_Count Philippe De Chagny_

On the top of the finer parchment and the wax seal was that of the De Chagny family crest. Rosalyn felt a sudden wave of awkward reluctance to his Erik this invitation. However, she felt that if it was a dinner, more people besides the De Chagny family would be attending.

Turning form the window, she placed the invitation on his desk, sitting back down; she finished her letters to her pen pals. She had gotten to know these women from a book club she attended during the first year of her marriage. Lovely women who needed someone to run their mouth to, Rosalyn didn't much care for gossip but sometimes it was good to hear about other people's lives other than living her own. Rosalyn still had a hard time with alliteration; her style of scrip had formed its own with delicate swirls and neat lines. Careful with her spelling and grammar, she always had a dictionary at hand and sometimes had to ask Erik for help with certain things. On constant occurrence, Rosalyn had to rewrite some of her letters to maintain the perfection Erik had influenced on her.

Strays sun beams filtered through the window and began to warm up the room slightly, bringing out the red color in the fine wood of the furniture. Something caught Rosalyn's eye and she looked up from her writing.

A small blue stone ring rested next to a series of photographs of people she didn't know except the one of herself that was closest to the ink well. Rosalyn reached out and picked up the ring, lovely tiny pale blue stones sparkled in the sunlight, the color matched well with the silver.

Placing the ring in her left hand she slipped it over her right ring finger, it didn't fit; the ring was made for someone with nearly bone thing fingers. With a scowl, she set the ring back in its place and looked at her own fingers, they were slim but there was a slight roundness to her fingers and palm.

The day continued at a mild pace after she sent out her letters. Rosalyn took a stroll through the vast property and explored the multiple open and secret gardens. Erik had even named one after her, placing a small wooden sign in white painted print that said "Rosalyn's Garden" in his famous beautiful cursive. The roses had yet to be in bloom and the small gazebo was starting to sprout the climbing vines. She would frequently have tea or lunch here during the warmer weather.

Her favorite place was the Persian indoor garden with all the exotic plants, art and a small pond with the beautifully geometric colors of the walls and the bottom of the pools. The plants had yet to bloom but the heat inside the indoor garden helped her mind imagine what it was like to live in Persia. She recalled the sweet and spiced scents of this garden and felt a sense of glee when she knew that this place would be alive once again in a couple months.

After venturing around the garden and stables of several horses, Rosalyn went inside for lunch and to her special room, he had let her pick out the colors and furniture of her specific tastes. The walls were a shade of lavender, the roof was the color of the clear summer sky and the hardwood floor was of oak, polished to perfection. The window with white curtians took up most of the wall to let in all the sunlight, with sparse book shelves and various paintings of scenery that Rosalyn had done.

Rosalyn pulled a small book of poetry from the shelf and took a seat next to the window, her mind focused on the pages as she read. She excelled at reading when Erik taught her how to, she loved reading books and tried to get her hands on any book that caught her interest. While preferred the dark literature, Rosalyn tended to enjoy a good book of poetry or plays every so often. Thinking of writing her own novel, she started it before she lost interest and hope that it would get published.

She had grown used to the quiet stillness of this house, there were very few staff and Rosalyn and Erik were the only masters of this house. Hardly having company over except if it's for business, due to his past Erik was never fond of filling his home with a crowd. Opening the book, she began to read the simple flow of old romantic poetry.

Erik had returned home early, walking into the stables while leading the massive black horse that followed obediently behind. The horse was shining with sweat, from flared nostrils it breathed heavily as it eagerly trotted inside the stables. Patting the broad, proud neck of his black beast he let himself a smile a little.

"Well done Noir, well done."

Noir nudged his master with affection before Erik handed the reins to the stable hand, with a quick turn on his heels he headed for the side door to lead inside. He walked through the small passage way till he came to a small set of stairs, after climbing them and opening the door to the hall way to the servant's quarters; he headed right before coming across another door which leads to the hall way that would lead to the kitchen. Instead, he tapped twice the other side of the hall way wall and a door opened, he stepped inside and the door closed, once again invisible to the untrained eye.

Like the Opera, Erik designed his home like a labyrinth, it was hard to navigate through here without the proper knowledge, in every room of his house there was a secret door that no one knew about. Behind each door was marked with a sign that said the name of the room, even within his secret doors there were secret rooms that even Rosalyn didn't even know about.

He stopped at the 'Lavender Room' and quietly opened the door to the colorful room, she had chosen the colors well enough for him to tolerate, though he wished she would have chosen something darker.

At the sound of the door, Rosalyn turned around her chair to peer had him. He was once again clothed in all black, his full face mask was black and only his yellow-gold eyes were clearly visible under the hood of his black cloak.

"You look freighting," Rosalyn raised a careless eyebrow; she snapped the book shut before standing up, placing the book on the seat of the chair before she approached him. "How was your morning?"

With a thin smile he slowly leaned in and kissed her tenderly, while he had her attention he slipped something around her right wrist. Rosalyn pulled away just as she clasped it, with a curious gaze, she looked at it.

A diamond bracelet held together with polished silver, her green eyes marveled at the tiny jewels before she looked up at him, a little skeptical.

"What is the meaning of this fine gift Erik?" she asked as a small smile crept over her face. "Tis lovely but there are always a catch with your presents."

"Clever as always," he flashed a sly smirk "you'll get the whole set once you have answered my riddle."

Rosalyn gaped at him "you bought a set?"

Erik continued, "An occasion such as this requires the man and his angel to dance amongst silks, masks, rival jewels and medals can never outshine the angel of music."

Frowning, Rosalyn placed her hands on her hips "Erik, it's a masquerade."

"No my dear, it's something else."

"An Opera, Ball?"

Erik shook his head, he seemed to grow more excited judging by the broadening of his smile, and Rosalyn was at loss for words as she drew her hands together and began to think.

"Husband, give me one good reason I should wear such a fine set of jewelry if it's not for any of these occasions?" Rosalyn glared in annoyance.

"I am receiving an award Rosalyn."

The glare vanished, "oh Erik that's wonderful!"

Erik pulled her close to his body, the fine fabric of the skirt of her dress rustled softly against his body. "I bought this set because it would look stunning on you, adding to your wonderful radiance _mon ange_."

Her lips were only inches away from his as she stared into his eyes, trying to put on a peeved face when her emerald eyes and breathlessness betrayed her passion "I hate it when you call me that…"

"I know, but I do not care." He pulled her into a tantalizing kiss; his gloved hand caressed the small of her back as his other had cupped her rosy cheeks. Erik had once loved and lost but now, he had loved and sized victory. Rosalyn was a woman better fit for him, a woman of fire and ice and fearlessness, he had changed because of her, he had long ago forgotten of his lost angel when he said his vows at the altar.

* * *

_**Later…**_

In her dressing gown, Rosalyn read her book by the fireplace in Erik's study. A mug of herbal tea in hand, she periodically glanced over where Erik sat at his desk in his trousers, boots and loose tunic. She could see the outline of his slender frame; she recalled that she had once been able to count his ribs before he decided to gain more. For man his age, his body looked hardly over thirty years.

It was only at this time when he didn't wear his mask, the servants were back in their quarters and Erik finally felt safe enough to remove it. Rosalyn never thought that his face looked like death, sure it was grotesque and unattractive to look at but Rosalyn never feared or once winced at his face.

In the dim light she could see the sunken nose and scarred skin, more than anything it looked more like a fire burn that that of death. Maybe before her time he looked like death but she constantly felt annoyed by the fact that people claimed that he had no nose. It was there; just scarred and burned to the point of no recognition. His lips were the only thing on his face that was saved. Rosalyn never asked how his face was disfigured; she felt that it was rude.

Erik was looking through the letters till he came across the invitation from the Count, he scanned the invitation and froze, eyes fixed on the word 'Viscount". His mind went back to the incident five years ago, no doubt in his mind assured him that the couple whom ruined his life would be there. An insidious thought formed in his mind as he began to analyze what would happen if he and Rosalyn were to attend.

As if she had read his mind, Rosalyn got up from her chair and walked to the desk, ripping the invitation from his hand.

"Whatever you are planning, I do not want any part in it."

"I plan to accept his invitation, only if you were to accompany me," he opened another letter and began to read it in a nonchalant manner.

Rosalyn frowned angrily, tossing the invitation on the desk "fine, but don't expect me to enjoy it. I am only going to keep you on your best behavior."

"I know, I have no intention of going alone…that could be dangerous." He smiled "and besides, I want to show you off."

Rolling her eyes, Rosalyn headed back to her chair "You are infuriating husband."

Erik eyed Rosalyn as she sat down, if she knew more of what happened, seeking revenge would also be festering like a disease in her mind.

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